The Marine's Second Chance, page 7
But she had known him before—had cared about him and had chemistry with him—so maybe that was why his new appearance was impacting her so much. Maybe that was why it was impossible for her not to picture him in her mind’s eye every minute of the day and night. Impossible not to sneak peeks at the Camden house every time she passed a window just in case he might be in sight.
If not for their old connection, then maybe she would have been able to simply note that he was hot—the way Bridget had—and leave it at that. But that wasn’t an option for her.
And if it wasn’t difficult enough, toss in the current dynamics between them and that just made things worse. One minute she was lost in the image of him and trying to calm the subsequent flutters in her stomach, and the next she was feeling guilty and remorseful and couldn’t bear the idea that he had such horrible thoughts and feelings about her now.
It was a confusing cocktail that was messing with her mind, her emotions, her sleep and her concentration. She didn’t know what to do about it, how to handle it or how to make it stop.
And when fatigue had had her in its grip last night in bed and the image of Dalton was so vividly haunting her, she hadn’t been able to keep herself from wondering what it might be like to kiss the grown-up Dalton. If it would be different. As good. Not as good. As improved as his face and body...
Not that she’d ever have the chance to find out.
When it came to Dalton Camden there was nothing but the past for her. A past that had burned him, scarred him. Whatever attraction she felt for him, it couldn’t possibly be mutual. Not when he was so certain that he could never trust her again. There just didn’t seem to be any way to heal that rift.
Even if she tried to be absolutely open and honest with him, she doubted that he’d believe her. And she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle making herself that vulnerable anyway.
When it came to the Dalton-of-the-past, she’d always been open and honest with him. She’d let him see her every vulnerability. Until that awful end.
But exposing herself in that way wasn’t something she’d done with anyone since the day she’d left him. It wasn’t something she’d done in any of her relationships, actually—romantic or even with friends. It was one of the things that her last fiancé Arnie and her officemate Alice had dinged her for eight months ago.
And to do it now, with the Dalton-of-today? That seemed risky.
It was all just so convoluted and complex and confusing and complicated now.
Oh, there he is...
His childhood bedroom was in the front upstairs corner of the house. And suddenly she spotted him standing at a window there.
She couldn’t see him in any great detail but the mere outline of those shoulders almost broke her out into a sweat.
Was he looking over at her house, thinking about her the way she was thinking about him?
He was probably just looking out at the night, she told herself.
But if he was looking at her house, could he see her there on the porch?
If he could, would he come over like he would have in the old days?
And what was wrong with her that that idea gave her a tiny charge?
She reminded herself that if he came over it would probably only be to blast her again.
But still she sat up straighter with anticipation. She took stock of what she had on, of how her hair was behaving, wishing she’d bothered with mascara...
And she asked herself if she should tell him how wrong he was in thinking that she’d left because she hadn’t cared about him...
He didn’t stand at the window long before he yanked down the shade as if he was angry with it. And even though Marli remained on the alert and waiting, he never did come outside.
Which was good, she decided after a while, battling a crushing sense of letdown and thinking that her hopes that time would soften some of his anger might be to no avail.
Unless maybe she told him the whole truth about why she’d left him...
What would happen if she was open and honest with him about the past now? Would it help? Would he even believe her?
And what was her real motive?
That was the most important question.
Because if her motive was only to improve things between them—both to keep their history from negatively coloring his decision about Holt and in order to relieve some of her guilt—then maybe it was okay.
But if telling him the whole truth had anything to do with the other part of the cocktail swirling around in her? The part that had kept her awake last night pondering kissing him?
Then she should keep her mouth shut because she shouldn’t do anything that might encourage her current attraction to him.
Better that he thought what he thought. Better that she live with the guilt and remorse and not risk her heart again.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, thinking how much easier it would have been if she’d come back to Merritt and found only nostalgia.
* * *
“Okay, I’m too hungry, and that smells too good.”
That had been Marli’s plan.
It was ten o’clock Tuesday night. The day of vets-helping-vets construction had begun at 7:00 a.m.
Dalton and all three of his brothers were among the crew and the work had gone on until seven o’clock that evening when everyone had left—except Dalton, who had stayed to help Marli clean up.
She appreciated the help, even though his attitude toward her hadn’t improved—he continued to be distant, withdrawn and surly, speaking to her only when necessary, and even then without any warmth or friendliness or familiarity.
Still, Marli gave him enormous credit for coming at all and she appreciated that he’d facilitated the day’s work, done a fair share of it himself and then stuck around to help her with the massive mess that was left behind. In gratitude, before beginning the cleanup, she’d offered to buy dinner.
Dalton had flatly declined and said he didn’t want to waste the time to stop and eat, making it sound as if he was unwilling to spend one more minute than he had to with her.
So Marli had just gone on working, too.
But by the time they were nearing the end—and while he was taking yet another load of trash outside—she’d called what had once been his favorite local Italian restaurant and ordered what used to be Dalton’s favorite sandwich—sausage, peppers, cheese and marinara on an Italian roll.
When he’d come in again, she’d informed him that she’d ordered food for them both and left it at that. Now that the delivery had been made, the wonderful aroma that came with it seemed to be doing its job.
“I got a sausage sandwich for me and two for you,” Marli said. “And there are pickles and chips and a big bottle of that sparkling lemon drink you liked.”
“I’ll take it.”
Marli wasn’t sure if that meant he intended to literally take his food home or not—which was obviously an option. But even if he refused to eat with her, she reminded herself that providing him with the meal was the least she could do. “Will you stay and eat it here or shall I just divvy it up so you can go home?”
“I’m too hungry to walk it across the street,” he admitted. “Just let me wash my hands.”
He held them up and it struck Marli that they, too, seemed bigger and more capable than they formerly were. They were fully a man’s hands. And she couldn’t stop the instant curiosity that came with the awareness about what they might feel like now—holding her hand, touching her skin...
She pushed the thoughts away and set the sack of food on the kitchen table, saying as she did, “Use the kitchen sink. There’s paper towels to dry with.” Then she went around the corner into the bathroom to do the same thing.
He was standing behind one of the chairs at the kitchen table when she returned. It struck her that, in days gone by, he wouldn’t have felt the need to be so formal. Alone with her, he would have been right at home, taking a seat and doling out the food without hesitation. Now he was waiting for an invitation or permission. His posture was straight, his manner still businesslike and reserved despite the fact that they both showed signs of the long day’s work.
“Sit down and relax,” she suggested.
Not until then did he pull the chair out from the oval table and sit at the same time she did without seeming to relax one iota.
Marli emptied the food sack, which included napkins and plastic cutlery along with their dinner and the drink she’d ordered. As she passed Dalton his share, set the pickles and chips between them, and poured the bubbly, tart lemon libation into two of the glasses she’d taken from the cupboard, she just had to fill the silence.
“I can’t believe everything that got done today—all the passageways and doorways widened, sturdy ramps at angles Holt will be able to manage alone. And that stair-lift? It looks great and now Holt and Bridget can sleep upstairs in a real bedroom. Plus with both bathrooms remodeled, he’ll be able to use the toilet on his own, and that new shower upstairs makes it so he can handle his own shower without any help and come downstairs when he’s dressed and ready. He’ll be sooo happy about that.”
“A seventeen-man crew can get a lot done in a day,” Dalton said flatly, leaving more silence.
“I didn’t expect you and your brothers to come, too,” Marli went on. “An extra four men—that had to have helped. Especially with your suggestions. I didn’t even know you had a degree in engineering. Those guys you were working with were all impressed with your suggestions for better ways to do things—I overheard a handful of them talking about how much more efficient your way made things and they said they’d have to remember it all for the next time.”
She knew she was babbling, and she wasn’t sure that was better than Dalton not saying anything at all as he seemed to pay attention only to his food. She decided to at least slow herself down and added a simple “Anyway...thank you again.” It was a sentiment she’d expressed more than once to every man who had worked today.
Dalton only raised his chin to accept it.
Marli tasted her sandwich and judged it as good as she remembered. When she commented on it, Dalton made a sound that seemed to agree. But that was it and silence came again.
“So how did you end up majoring in engineering?” she said then, hoping maybe a direct question would work better.
Calmly and in no hurry, he used the napkin from his lap to dab away something she couldn’t see from the corner of his mouth. “It just suited me more than the other options. I didn’t want to choose anything the marines might decide to use that would put me behind a desk or in a room with a bunch of computers.”
“Computers were definitely not what we needed today but the engineering came in handy,” Marli mused. “Has it come in handy as a marine?”
“I haven’t built any bridges, but seeing things with a problem-solving viewpoint can help in any number of circumstances—especially logistically. In Syria the site where the hostages were being held was well positioned, with some extra complications in the way of almost mazes within the building and in tunnels below it, giving the rebels an advantage. My reputation for dealing with unique logistical issues was why I was assigned the command.”
“To figure out the best way in—like you did when I wanted to get into the abandoned gristmill to see if we could make the waterwheel go again.”
Ohhh...that actually got a smile out of him. A tiny, tiny smile that came without him raising his gaze from his sandwich. “Yeah, like that.”
Still, she ran with the memory. “Then I saw that window behind the bottom of the wheel—”
“And while I was figuring out an aboveground route, you climbed the wheel spokes to get down to the window and actually got in through it—”
“You didn’t think I could. You were sure I’d slip off one of the spokes and into the river, but then you did it, too—because it was quicker and more fun than your safer way.”
Marli had been ten, Dalton had been eleven and by then they were heavily into having what she’d called their adventures.
“You couldn’t get the wheel to turn again, though,” Marli accused in the same teasing tone she would have adopted with him at that time.
“I hadn’t been to the naval academy yet—get me in there now and I guarantee I’ll make it go.”
Marli smiled genuinely despite his emotionless expression. “I might still fit through the window but I know you wouldn’t, so I’d have to get in and then open the door from inside so you could come in, too,” she said. “It might be worth it—I’d still like to see the old thing turn.”
“Or we could just use my original plan,” he said as if they were actually plotting it.
But then, as if he’d just realized how much his guard had dropped, he resurrected it and went back to not talking and concentrating on his food.
It struck Marli that that was likely to keep happening if she didn’t make more headway with him. And the only thing she could think to do was dive back into the past and correct the ideas he had.
Throughout the day she’d thought a lot about whether or not to be candid with him, always shying away from the idea of opening up too much of herself to him.
But there he was across the table from her and she’d seen that fleeting smile, she’d had just a crumb of reliving a better time with him, and suddenly it seemed like anything was worth getting back to that.
Only if your motives are pure, she cautioned herself, wary of the thoughts she’d had about him that were decidedly less than pure. But in this moment, reminiscing about their past, what she’d missed from him was the friendship they’d had as children. Surely that meant that she wasn’t after any kind of romance. What she really wanted was just for them to be on a better footing so that they might get back to the innocent rapport they’d once shared.
Besides, she reasoned, at that moment they were both at their least attractive—they were grubby messes in soiled, raggedy old work clothes. She had no makeup on, her hair was in a now-stringy ponytail. He had sawdust in his hair and a smudge of dirt on the side of his face. This was the time to lay it all out.
Counting a whole lot on the power of the food and that hint of a smile, she took the leap. “Now that we both have cooler heads...could we talk more about when I left?”
“I don’t know why we would,” he said as if the subject had been talked to death and now bored him.
“Because you don’t really have it right.”
She waited for him to do what he’d done before and flare up. But apparently he really did have a cooler head now because that wasn’t what he did. He opened his second sandwich, took a bite and remained poker-faced. Once he’d swallowed that bite, he said, “How do I not have it right?”
“I did have to run far and fast from you.” She reiterated his words of Sunday night. “But not because I didn’t have feelings for you...”
She hesitated, struggling with reluctance to bare her soul and the lack of practice she had doing it over the last seventeen years.
But this is your only hope of gaining ground with him...
Still, she couldn’t quite do it head-on.
“You know how my mother programmed me,” she said instead.
“Get out of Merritt, experience what the rest of the world had to offer, broaden your horizons, meet other people, or wither and die a slow, horrible small-town death,” he recited.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “And you know that I bought into it and was obsessed with getting out of here.”
“I do,” he said.
“But the thing is...” She hadn’t said this even to him at the time. “When I found out there was going to be a baby and you were...”
The mere mention of what had gone on then brought moisture to her eyes even now. She blinked it back, taking a chip, which she didn’t eat, just to give herself a moment until she could go on.
“God, you were so good about it...” she said then. “I was such a panicked mess and you just...weren’t. You took charge, you took care of me, even before that day I lost the baby, right from the minute I told you there was a baby, when you warned me not to say anything to anyone because you’d seen how your mother dragged Della Markham through the mud after her fake claim that Micah had gotten her pregnant. You said you would make sure your mother couldn’t do the same thing to me. It was like you were stepping in front of a runaway train to keep me safe...” The awe she’d felt for that bravery was in her voice, awe she’d felt at the time but been too deep in her own turmoil to say.
She went on without encouragement. “I’ll never forget how I felt when you said that you’d stand by me no matter how your mother or mine or anyone else reacted, no matter what they thought. That as long as we had each other we’d be fine. That you didn’t need Annapolis or to be a marine. That we’d get married, have the baby... That it would just be a different kind of adventure and that nobody could do that the way we could... When you said that you’d still make sure we had a great life even if it didn’t look the way we’d originally thought it would...” She took a drink of the lemon seltzer to wash down the lump in her throat. “It actually sounded good to me,” she finished very quietly.
Dalton stopped eating, set both hands flat on the table, sat back and finally looked directly at her. But he didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, studying her, waiting, maybe judging whether or not to believe her.
Which was how she knew she had to go on, no matter how hard it was to force the words out.
“I don’t know...” she said. “Maybe even then something was telling me that Merritt wasn’t as bad as my mother thought it was because I could actually see the two of us building a good life here. In a little apartment over one of the shops to start out. Getting married. Having that baby that would be the two of us...” Why did this put a knot in her stomach all these years later?
